Us, a History: Year One
by Manic In Peace
Summary: We've never gotten straight answers, so why not?
1. I found it! I found it!

A\N: Yes, I am doing one of these. Seems like a rite of passage by now, doesn't it? I like them, personally, but have never seen them finished. So I'm going to do just that. And well, I might add. Review, because I don't know if that's a good idea or not. Review if you like it. PLEASE!

Disclaimer: This is not mine.

Albus Potter sat in his father's library, reading a book on transfiguration. His adult family was away, on vacation, and all the young ones had been left at the Potter Manor with Teddy as their chaperone. Not that Ted had been much help, supervision-wise, ever since Vic Weasley had gotten her Apperation license.

Breaking the muffled silence of the study, Hugo Weasley rushed in, a stack of books in his hands. This didn't worry Albus, what with Hugo being so book-happy. What did worry him was the crazed look on Hugo's face and his shouts of "Al! Al! I found it!"

Al straightened up in his leather easy chair, and stopped Hugo before he could run full-force into him. "What did you find? A new potions book?"

Hugo rolled his eyes and said "I won't even dignify that with a response." Al was too tired to point out that he already had, so Hugo continued "You know how our parents refuse to 'remember' the whole story about the war?" Al nodded, more eagerly this time. He had always wondered what had happened then. "Well, Vic agreed to Side-Along me an hour ago, and just look what I found in Flourish and Blott's!"

Al picked up the first book, which was thin and red, and had a young boy on the front with a wonky haircut and a lighting-shaped scar. He was wearing a Gryffindor scarf and standing in front of the Hogwarts Express. The title read: _ Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._ His dad? Some stone? And how had this J.K. chick gotten an interview? Dad had been refusing those since before James was born.

"Who's J.K…Rawwlinnnggs...Anyway? How does she know all of this?" Al asked, curious.

"Rooollling. Like Bowling. I dunno, really. She's some muggle author, she published it all as fiction, but it's pretty near close to the truth, from what we've heard."

Al shook his head. "We should probably read them, just to get the whole truth, and nothing but. Should we call the other heathens, though?" Though he and Hu were a year or two apart, they were closer than he and Rosie. The whole Potter\Weasley brood was officially and formally (not to mention lovingly) referred to as the heathens, by everyone, just because there were too many of them to be referred to by name. Or to even remember all their names, half the time.

Hugo nodded definitively. "They deserve to know, too"

----

That was how the flurry of scampering children and teens came to sit in the study, sprawled on the hearthrug or perched on the two large leather sofas. Al cleared his throat and called, just to quiet them "QUIDDITCH SUCKS!" at this proclamation, the room was silent. Obviously, with their genes, nobody agreed.

"Okay, guys" Hugo started "While Ted is _busy _with Vic" James shot Sebastian a joking glance, to which he groaned "We're going to read these books, to know the truth. All in favor say 'Aye'"

The following 'Aye' could have shook the house.

"Okay, okay, alright" Al said, desperate to start "I'll read first, okay?" Everyone nodded, so he began:

**HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE **


	2. HeathenBrood means I love you in German

A\N: Sooo, I'm just finishing the commentary on the first chapter, and I think, Holy Goats! No-one out there knows who anyone I'm talking about is! Or what I perceive their personalities to be! I should tell them! So after this Brain Blast (Hehe Jemmy) I decided to write this mini-Bio's chapter for you, which you can refer to at any time that you would like. I will probably upload a picture to my DeviantArt page, of the brood, when I can, and will link it on my Profile if I figure out how to. ; D *smile makes dinging noise* *ding*

Enjoy? Ish?

Disclaimer: Meh! I don't know who I own anymore! (but if I did know what I didn't know I knew, which is that I don't own anyone JK Rowling [Like Bowling] owns because she owns them.)

**Charlie **is married to **Gloria**; they have **Felicia**. Despite the fact that her name is a derivative of the Latin word for _happiness_, Felicia couldn't be less _happy_. She's even more cynical and sassy than a dragon and a college student combined. You don't wanna cross her.

**Bill** is (obviously) married to **Fleur; **they have **Vic**, dating and maybe-engaged to **Teddy Lupin**, and **Sebastian**, who inherited Arthur's obsession for Muggle ekclectricity and likewise collects and keeps an assortment of plugs.

**Percy **is married to **Audrey; **they have **Paige, **the 'perfect' blonde, just like her mum. But, unlike her mum, she is shamelessly a tomboy. She plays beater and cracks jokes like no tomorrow.

**George **is married to **Alicia** (formerly Spinnet); they have twins (surprise!!): **Fred and Jacob,** troublemakers, Chasers, and relly-protectors extraordinaire! They know the true Weasley value of family and take it in stride. They also have one girl, **Paris,** named such by Alicia in a stroke of genius, because it means parallel in Latin. What is it with this family and Latin names you just can't live up to, huh? Right, because Paris looks and acts nothing like her brothers. She's petite and sweet and eight years old, for a start.

**Ron **is (duh) married to **Hermione**; they have a girl, **Rose, **and a boy,** Hugo.** Rose is, in all honesty, more like Ron. Good and clever in one subject, not so much in others. Oh, and she's a beast at chess. Hugo is all around brilliant, like his mum, though he doesn't feel the need to rub this fact in. He's very shy and book smart, and doesn't make friends easily.

**Harry **is married to **Ginny **(might I venture once again to say duh?); the have **James, Albus, and Lily. **James is a brilliant Keeper, with untidy black hair and brown eyes (yes, that does make him a carbon-copy of James) and is altogether okay-smart, but the class he enjoys mast is… Arithmancy! (Don't tell anyone or he'll steal Paige's Beater's bat at make you a midnight visit). Albus is a literal mirror image of his father, save maybe a few scars, and acts like him, too. Quiet and reserved until you make him angry. He is best, bar none, in his class at Transfiguration and reads about it all the time. Lily is a clone of her mother, even with the explosive temper and everything. She hero-worships Ginny and wants to grow up to be an international Quidditch player. 


	3. Rotten Rellies and Baby Daddies

**Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. **

"How _riveting..._ why do we have to hear about these boring sods? Where's Uncle Harry and everyone else at?" Sebastian asked in a bored monotone.

Lily looked like she was about to protest, but thought better of it and shrugged "It must have something to do with Dad." She pointed out sensibly.

**Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.**

"How does that make up for not having a neck?" asked Albus, genuinely curious.

**Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck,**

"So they _complement _each other!" Paige said in a sarcastically girly way "one's big and fat with no neck, and the other's seemed to have given him her fat in exchange for neck to spare! How sweet!" Everyone rolled their eyes. Paige was the opposite of girly, much to her mother, Audrey's, displeasure.

**which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. **

**The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. **

"In other words he's a fat, spoiled git." translated James

**The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.**

"HEY! There's nothing wrong with the Potters!" demanded Albus, to the other Potters' nods.

**Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister,**

**because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish**

"Rather be un-Dursleyish than a hippo and a giraffe!" mocked Paris, then she smiled "Hey! They belong in a zoo!" Paris did that often, remember things a moment after she should.

**as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.**

James looked like he might punch a Dursley if he got the chance, but, instead, he just fumed.

**When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. **

Felicia rolled her eyes "Brat"

**None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. **

**At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.**

Again.

"**Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. **

**It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar — a cat reading a map. **

"Animagus!" hollered James, triumphant.

Albus rolled his eyes "James, what are you on?"

"That cat is an Animagus. I bet you a galleon."

"Fine. Why the hell would an Animagus be on these freak's street?"

James just shook his head, still smiling.

**For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, **_**looking **_**at the sign; cats couldn't read maps **_**or **_**signs. **

**Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. **

**But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. **

**Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdoes standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together.**

**Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. **

"Man, Muggles would do anything not to notice us," Sebastian said, fondly. He had inherited his grandfather's Muggle obsession, and they had been comparing plug collections every Christmas since he was four.

**The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills. **

**Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. **_**He **_**didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.**

**Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. **

"I almost feel bad for Petunia!" said Paris, angrily.

**He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery. **

**He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. **

**This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. **

"**The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard —" **

" — **yes, their son, Harry —" **

"Daddy!" smiled Lily

**Mr. Dursley stopped dead. **

"Thank Gods, he's dead!" shouted Rose.

**Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. **

**He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone,**

**and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid.**

"Finally, he's noticed." muttered Paige

**Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew **_**was **_**called Harry. **

**He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. **

"Eww.. Harvey? Harold?" Lily smirked.

**There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if **_**he'd **_**had a sister like that… **

**but all the same, those people in cloaks… **

**He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. **

"**Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! **

**Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!" **

**And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.**

**Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination. **

"How can you not approve of imagination?" asked Albus, indignantly.

**As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. **

"Ah, good, the Animagi's still there!" said James, once again smiling.

"It's not an Animagi." corrected Albus, not looking up from his book.

**It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. **

"**Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.**

"Psh, that'll work" smirked Jacob, to which his twin replied 'Yeah, you've tried with Minnie enough times to know.'

'Must you refer to our HEADMISTRESS as Minnie?' Hugo asked, exasperated 'And how many times have you tried to shoo her Animagus form away?'

'Enough' Fred replied coolly

**The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. **

"Hehe, sounds like McGonagall..." snickered James

"You would know." added Lily

**Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. **

**Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news: **

"_**And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?" **_

"_**Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight." **_

**Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…**

**Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"**

**As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister. **

"**No," she said sharply. "Why?" **

"**Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…" **

"_**So?**_**" snapped Mrs. Dursley. **

"**Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… **_**her **_**crowd." **

"Her crowd, what's that supposed to mean?" Felicia exclaimed snappily

James muttered something that sounded like "Great, prejudiced gits.."

**Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son — he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?" **

"**I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly. **

"**What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?" **

"**Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."**

"**Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree." **

**He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. **

**Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it. **

**The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters **_**were **_**involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect **_**them**_**… **

**How very wrong he was. **

**Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.**

**A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. **

**Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. **

"My namesake?" questioned Albus.

"Duh" said James

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known." **

**He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. **

"Cool, I want one!" Hugo hollered

"Dad has one. But don't you even dare try and steal it!" Rose cautioned, to the greedy look on Hugo's face.

**He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. **

"**Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." **

"HAH! HAH-HAH-HAH! I TOLD YOU SO!" Boomed James

Even Albus looked a little impressed as he handed over a Galleon.

**He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked. **

"**My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly." **

"**You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall. **

"No one asked you to be there," Rose huffed

"Rosie. Stop. Talking. I really want to be finished this by the time the fams get back" Albus said, once again not looking up from his book.

Rose started to say something, but Al glared at her peripherally, and she stopped.

"**All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." **

**Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. **

"**Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." **

**She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense." **

"**You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." **

"Eleven years," Lily gasped. The rest of the group looked solemn. They'd known the second war had lasted a longtime, but they didn't know people had to deal with it so long before that. It struck Lily especially. Eleven years. Her whole life.

"**I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. **

'Always' said James, fondly remembering the headmistresses' irritable streak.

"**But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." **

**She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really **_**has **_**gone, Dumbledore?" **

"**It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. **

'Seems.' said Felicia, knowing, like the others, that he would not be fully gone for another sixteen years.

"**We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"**

'Ha! Albus! Your dad named you after a nutter!' Fred gasped in between fits of laughter. The others were laughing, too

'It's a Muggle sweet' Al defended to no-one

"**A **_**what**_**?" **

"**A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of." **

'See?' Albus continued, defending his namesake.

Fred coughed something that sounded suspiciously like 'Still a nutter' and Jacob cough-laughed.

"**No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops.**

'Because it's not! Dumbledore's just a nutter!' Jacob crowed

Albus didn't even bother to protect his namesake. He was starting to believe the man was on something as well

"**As I say, even if You-Know-Who **_**has **_**gone —" **

"**My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: **_**Voldemort**_**."**

'What's so bad about a name?' Paris asked, once again confused.

'It was a big thing then' Hugo clarified 'everyone called him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'

'That's rubbish' Rose said definitively 'you're more scared of the name than the man, then.'

**Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name." "I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, **_**Voldemort**_**, was frightened of." **

"**You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have." **

"**Only because you're too — well —**_**noble **_**to use them." **

"**It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."**

'Things we didn't need to know about Dumbledore....' James groaned

'I dunno...' said Sebastian jokingly 'Don't you think there's something going on there?'

That brought a collective 'Eww' at the thought

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the **_**rumors **_**that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?" **

**It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer. **

"**What they're **_**saying**_**," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. **

**The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — **_**dead**_**." **

James looked down at Lily who had a pensive look on her face. He wondered if she, like him, had just realized that these people were their namesakes, their grandparents.

**Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. **

"**Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"**

'It looks like they were nice people' Hugo said, comforting Lily by patting her on the shoulder. He figured James, at fifteen, didn't need the same treatment.

'Yeah' Lily replied faintly, staring at the book. She suddenly looked up at James and said 'But it would have been great to meet them, wouldn't it?'

'It would have been' James agreed softly. He would have liked to meet the man his dad went on about.

**Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily. **

**Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry.**

Rose and Felicia let slide a few words that threatened to peel the paint from the walls. What kind of nut tried to kill a baby?

**But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone." **

**Dumbledore nodded glumly. **

"**It's — it's **_**true**_**?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"**

"Yeah, I'd like to know that, too," Hugo muttered

"**We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know." **

'Meh, crazy old bugger probably knows, too' Felicia accused

**Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?" **

"**Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me **_**why **_**you're here, of all places?" **

"**I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now." **

'Eugh, his rellies sound worse than you lot' Jacob grinned and Fred nodded. Everyone else knew not to be too offended. Though Jake and Fred made a bunch of fun over their family, it was well-known that they loved being a part of it.

"**You don't mean – you **_**can't **_**mean the people who live **_**here**_**?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!" **

"**It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter." **

"**A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?**

**These people will never understand him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!" **

"**Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?" **

**Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it. **

'Poor Uncle Harry, is he?' Paris asked, genuinely concerned

'I'm sure the headmaster wouldn't hide him under his robes, Izzie' Lily comforted

"**Hagrid's bringing him." **

"**You think it —**_**wise **_**— to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"**

"**I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore. **

'Nutter' Jake commented for the thirtieth time.

'Say it again and you're dead' Al warned

"**I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?" **

**A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. **

**If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so **_**wild **_**— long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.**

"**Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?" **

"**Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."**

"**No problems, were there?" **

"**No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."**

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.**

"**Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall. **

"**Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever." **

"**Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" **

"**Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with." **

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house. **

"**Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog. **

"**Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!" **

"**S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles —" **

"**Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.**

**For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out. **

"**Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations." **

"**Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir." **

**Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night. **

"**I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. **

**Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. **

"**Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone. **

**A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!"**

"Well.' Albus said 'that was…eventful… who wants to read next?'

'MEMEME!' shouted the twins

'Fine, fine, here you go.' He handed the book over.


End file.
